


Let All my Nightmares Repeat

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Heartbreak, I'm fucking with all of you, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Liam Goddamn Payne, M/M, Underage Drinking, fuck my life, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re a mess,” Liam said, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>“Hey, Lou,” Harry called from somewhere near the front of the house. “Where are you?”</p>
<p>“Um. There’s also that.” Louis clenched his jaw, giving Liam a timid look. “Kitchen!” he called belatedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let All my Nightmares Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome.
> 
> Good morning, good afternoon, and good night.
> 
> xx

“What the fuck time is it?” Louis grumbled, throwing an arm over his face to block out the morning light. He stretched slightly, shoulders nudging one arm of the sofa.

“Hell if I know,” Harry answered. He was curled on the other end of the couch, voice rumbly and rough. “Do you happen to know where my pants are?”

“Why the fuck did you put your jeans back on without pants?” Louis pulled his arm away from his face, squinting at Harry through the bright light. “Actually, how did you manage to get those skinny jeans on at all?”

Louis watched Harry amble to his feet, planting his palms on his lower back and stretching out his spine. “A stumbling baby giraffe never reveals his secrets,” he responded, flinging his arms out to the sides before spinning around the room very erratically.

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned. “You. Who made you up? Were you made in a lab to destroy me?”

“I’m a fairy ballerina,” he countered, continuing to twirl in a majestic fashion. His shirt hiked up around his waist, and if Louis weren’t already parched, his mouth would have gone bone-dry.

“How are you not hungover?” He openly stared at Harry’s dark-ink tattoos and knife-sharp hipbones, everything on display where his shirt fell to the side.

“I wasn’t chugging wine, Lou. That was you.”

“You saying you took advantage of me? Drunken little me, and you with your weirdly oversized giant body?”

Harry frowned, rounding to look him straight in the face. “Are you being serious right now?”

“No.” Louis sat up onto his elbows, levering himself forward. “Bad joke, I guess.”

“So. Joke then.” Harry folded himself smaller, tucking his arms behind his back.

“Joke,” Louis agreed, lying back to open his arms wide. “Sorry. Come here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, voice slow and quiet.

“I’m sure.”

He gave Louis a lazy smile before positively leaping onto his lap. “Ow!” Louis said lamely, circling his arms around Harry’s waist once Harry settled in. He shifted his hips to the side, allowing their bodies to press together more comfortably.

“Oh sweet lovely darling Louis, I am so sorry to have bruised your delicate skin.”

“You should be, you cad!”

Harry chuckled, planting his lips on Louis’ jaw. “You’re so much like your sister, it’s not even funny.”

“Stop talking about my sister when I’m trying to seduce you.”

“You don’t need to try, silly,” he whispered, biting down on Louis’ earlobe. “Though I thought you were hungover.”

“I can’t even tell if I’m hungover anymore. But I should probably brush my teeth.”

“Do you mind if I borrow your shower? I feel kinda grungy. How have I managed not to even see your bedroom, by the way? I should see your bedroom,” Harry mused slowly, nuzzling his face into Louis’ shoulder.

“Because we were a bit busy, weren’t we. Plus my bedroom’s not that special. Just a place I periodically sleep.”

“Periodically?”

“Kind of a slut, innit.”

“Good. Now’s the time, I reckon. When you’re young, like.”

Louis snorted. “You’re just glad you get to reap the benefits of me being a slut.”

“You’re not wrong.” He flashed a small smile before biting his lip.

Louis swallowed, Adams apple bobbing jaggedly. “If you really want to see my room, it has a bathroom. With a shower.”

Harry hopped up out of Louis’ lap. “I’ll go find it. You find my pants.” He left the room, narrow hips swinging as Louis watched him.

Louis swallowed, mouth tasting of stale wine and sleep. He stretched before standing up to rearrange himself into something vaguely dignified. He spotted Harry’s boxer-briefs on top of a table-lamp—of course they would be on top of a table-lamp—and he dragged his tired body into the kitchen, where he chugged two large glasses of tepid water.

Then he stared at his hands and considered what his life was becoming and when, precisely, he had gotten inured to the insanity. He sat down on the floor, silently thankful for the housekeepers or cleaning ladies or whichever person swept the floor each day, making it clean enough for him to collapse onto just when he felt that his life was falling to pieces.

He lost track of time for sitting so long, staring at his hands and hating himself. He lost track of everything except for the feel of the cold floor beneath his backside. He nearly fell over when the doorbell rang, sound echoing throughout the entire ground floor of the house.

Louis heard someone answer the door, presumably some housekeeper whose name he didn’t know, or perhaps his mother, or maybe Lottie. He heard someone traipse through the foyer and kitchen, and he realized it was Liam.

“Hi,” Louis said quietly from his spot on the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” Liam asked with consternation, brows knitting together.

“I think I’m still drunk. Mouth tastes like wine.”

“It’s like eleven in the morning. How much did you drink?” Liam asked, dropping to his knees beside Louis, moving one thumb along Louis’ stubbled jaw.

“Lots.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just slept on my neck funny, I think. Among other things.”

“You’re an idiot.” Liam sat down hard next to Louis.

“Your idiot, though.”

“True.” Liam ruffled Louis’ hair, making a stupidly fond face. “I was gonna harass you to go for a swim. You feel up for it?”

“Sure. I need to do some things first. Top of the list is brushing my teeth.”

“You’re a mess,” Liam said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry called from somewhere near the front of the house. “Where are you?”

“Um. There’s also that.” Louis clenched his jaw, giving Liam a timid look. “Kitchen!” he answered belatedly.

“Your shower’s ridiculously complicated, by the way,” Harry said, rounding the corner into the kitchen. “Also I need to borrow a shirt. Mine’s got cranberry on it.” He held up his wrinkly shirt, showing it to Louis and Liam. “Unless it’s blood. What are we doing on the floor?”

He was shirtless and slender and lithe, and his tattooed skin glistened slightly from the lingering water on his torso. _He fucking glistened._ His jeans hung low on his sharp hipbones, and Louis’ back went rigid.

“Sitting,” Louis offered, shrugging.

“What?” Liam asked stiffly

“This is Harry. This is Liam.” Louis flung his hands up in the hair helplessly.

“Wait, _Harry_ Harry? This is Harry?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit,” Liam whispered, staring up at Harry’s half-naked body.

“That was kind of my reaction, too,” Louis agreed.

“Aw, you’ve been talking about me with your friends?” Harry asked with a lazy smile, folding himself up to sit on the floor across from them.

“Something like that.”

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? I think I missed that part of the equation,” Liam said, staring at Harry’s abdomen with something that resembled fascination.

“Spilled on it. Cranberry juice. Unless it’s blood.”

“It’s not blood,” Louis pointed out uselessly.

“Good. That’ll make the cleaning process easier.”

“Killed a couple people since I last saw you? Gotten used to cleaning blood out of fabric?”

“No,” Harry countered slowly. “But I do my sister’s laundry often enough.”

“Oh god, never mind,” Louis groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“I came over to see if Louis wanted to go swimming,” Liam interjected as if dragged out of a dream.

“Sounds ace, mate. Where’s the nearest pool?” Harry said amiably.

“The basement,” Louis muttered, dropping his hands from his face.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.” Louis shook his head.

“I’ve clearly been missing out, being gone so long.” Harry clambered to his feet, snagging a glass from the countertop and filling it with water.

“Your fault, not mine.”

“Mm. S’pose.” He dropped his stained shirt on the ground, rounding to give Liam and Louis smile. “So. Swimming?”

They all bounded downstairs, Louis making up the rear of the group. Harry began stripping his shirt off as soon as he got to the base of the steps.

“Cannonball!” Harry yelled into the humid room—because _of course he did_ Louis thought bitterly.

“I’m gonna go grab some trunks for me and Liam!” he called brightly, grabbing Liam’s hand and pulling him toward the bathroom where he kept extra swimsuits. “Are we—I think we—should we talk about this? I think my hangover’s kicking in. Help me,” he said, letting go of Liam’s wrist to slap his biceps without much heat or effort.

“I’m—I just can’t believe he’s here.”

“Um, you and me both. Lottie practically tackled him when he rang the doorbell. She’s weirdly obsessed with him a bit.”

“Seems like a family trait.”

“I’m not obsessed with him. Am I obsessed with him?”

“Did you fuck him?”

“Is—is that not allowed? I thought there were only—was that a rule? Help me. Seriously.”

“I thought it was kind of an unspoken rule,” Liam replied slowly, turning to face Louis. “Um.”

“I can’t do unspoken. I need explicit, cuz like. I’m a fucking idiot. And he was important to me and you’re mad now and I just—I need you to talk to me!”

“I dunno,” Liam said, considering. “I’ve never reall—um done this. Cuz with D—with my ex-girlfriend, we went into it knowing it was fake. So that’s weird.”

“This isn’t fake.”

“But what is it, then? If you feel fine jumping back into bed with your ex-boyfriend as soon as he comes into town?”

“Am I now allowed to do that? I—what do you—I just,” Louis stuttered. “Did I fuck it up already? I literally have no idea what I’m doing. Please tell me.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” Liam growled, low in his throat.

“Do you want to be?”

“Yes. I thought—I thought I made that clear!”

“You need to talk slowly and use small words. I have the emotional intelligence of a lizard. One of those ones that can, like, live underground for two years and emerge later and still be fine.”

“I think that’s a frog.” Liam folded his arms across his broad chest, brows furrowing.

“Fine, I’m a frog. Whatever, that’s not the point. I assumed you didn’t want to be exclusive because you didn’t say you did. I’ve never—done anything exclusive. Ever.”

“Not even with Harry?”

“What? No. He was never my boyfriend.” Louis pulled a frustrated face. “He wasn’t interested in being someone’s boyfriend.”

“So I’m, what, second best?”

Louis groaned. “That is literally the opposite of what I’m saying. I don’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend so if that’s what you want you need to teach me! Just simple commands, small words. Like with a dog. Ready, set, go.” He reached his hands out imploringly.

“Stop fucking other people! That’s pretty basic!” Liam stomped one foot and threw his hands into the air.

“Fine, deal, whatever. How was I supposed to know you didn’t want this to be an open relationship? You never said! Can you at least give me credit for trying?”

“I can only give you so much credit before it starts to be too exhausting, Louis. If you’re actually serious you need to act like you’re serious.”

“Of course I am! Sorry if I’m too much of an idiotic slut for you, but in case you forgot, you used to like that. The slut part, at least, back when you were gagging for it.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, okay? I don’t need it.” Liam pivoted on his foot and sat down hard on the lid of the toilet, dropping his head to stare angrily at the floor.

“Don’t need what?”

“Don’t need you acting self-righteous!”

“I wasn’t aware I was breaking any rules! I need direct instructions! Like a baby!”

“You’re acting like a baby! So fucking selfish.” He glared at Louis, jaw tight.

Louis paced away from Liam, snarling. “I’m honestly not sure I can have this conversation right now, Christ.”

“I can’t just—can’t just be some fucking doormat for you, okay? I’m done doing that.”

“I didn’t—there’s some invisible line with you, always, and I just keep crossing it. I don’t know what you want!” Louis raked his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. “Do you want to be exclusive? Fine. Do you want to fuck around on me? Fine. Fuck whoever you want!”

“This isn’t a transaction! People aren’t objects you can just use for revenge or vindication and then discard them.”

“That’s how people always treat me! How was I—I don’t know what I’m doing, so stop fucking yelling at me.” Louis leaned forward onto the counter, breath gone shallow.

“Are you still in love with him?”

“I was _never_ in love with him,” Louis spat. “That was the fucking problem. He was—he sacrifices everything for everyone and I’m not interested in walking all over someone. I mean, like, it was fun and easy or whatever, but it’s not functional or, like, good. He appeases me, doesn’t challenge my issues even when they hurt him. I stomped all over him and he didn’t even complain. I didn’t realize how horrible I was to him because he let it happen. He’s sweet and he’s lovely but I can’t love him. We don’t fit, we don’t work. I want to be able to love him because I think it would make him happy, but I can’t. And he deserves someone who can love him. Everyone deserves that chance.”

Louis rounded on Liam. “And he’s important to me for a lot of reasons! And he made me realize that I’m not good at stuff like this, so maybe it’s better if I just don’t try at all. Cards on the table. Take that as you will.”

“That’s not fair. Don’t put it all on me. I can’t be responsible for molding you into a new person or anything. That’s—that’s just not on, okay?”

Louis exhaled, blowing his fringe from his eyes. “That’s not what I mean. But you—I mean, you do challenge me, and that’s a good thing. Fuck, you’re doing it right now.”

“Yeah finally. Maybe the problem is that I haven’t done it enough, up til now. Haven’t stood up for myself. My feelings.”

“Well, whatever. If you’re gonna resent me, I need to know why. If we have rules, I need to know them. If you’re going to stand up for yourself or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing, I need to know why. Because otherwise it just sounds like you yelling into a void of all the mistakes I’ve ever made.”

“Which isn’t constructive.”

“No,” Louis agreed. “I can’t always be the wrong one here! And I mean, yeah, I’m a big slut, obviously. You knew that. But, like, sex and commitment and affection—they’re not all the same thing. Not for me. And I was under the impression that, shit, we were fuck buddies. _Because we were._ Your expectations need to be in line with reality! If you want to be my boyfriend, fucking ask me!”

“If I ask you to be my boyfriend, will you stop fucking anyone else?” Liam asked quietly, body very, very still.

“If you want me to, yes.” Louis’ hands tightened into fists at his sides.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, you absolute twat.” Louis gave him a small, thin smile, pulse racing.

“Good. No fucking anyone else unless I get to watch.”

“Oh Christ, don’t be pervy right now, it’s weirding me out.”

“Sorry.” Liam shrugged, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“I mean—he’s not a threat to you, okay?”

“I have no way of knowing that. Not—not with our history. And considering where we started. You could jump into bed with anyone, if you wanted to.”

“I can and I have, but I don’t have to do that. If you don’t want me to. I’d like to think I’m more than just a good lay, if you give me the chance to be.”

“Oh.”

That sat in stilted silence as Louis felt his heart-rate slow down. “I hate my fucking therapist. Without her, you and I would never be having this conversation.”

“Should I be thanking her or blaming her?”

“Get back to me in a month.”

Liam hummed in agreement. “Do you think Harry’s drowned out there? We’ve been in here awhile.”

“Nah. And if he is alive, you’re not allowed to kill him.”

“I could totally kill him with one hand, though. If I wanted.”

“We know, you’re basically Batman. Now reel it in and find some trunks that fit over your freakishly muscular body. I want to swim.” Louis shucked off his clothes and grabbed his board shorts from the nearby shelf before stepping into them.

He walked back to the pool where he spotted Harry floating lazily on his back near the diving board. His curly-wavy hair splayed out behind his head almost like a halo. “Were you guys shagging in there?” he asked, poking his ears above the water.

“No. Fighting about you.” Louis sat on the edge of the pool, peering at Harry. He dangled his feet into the water.

“That was my second guess.” He moved upright and began treading water.

“I’m not allowed to fuck you anymore. Unless he’s watching.” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Harry breathed. “What does that—mean for us?”

“Friends. We’re friends, obviously. Let’s do that.”

“I don’t know how…to do that. I don’t really know how to do anything?” Harry said in a confused tone. “But to make people feel good, like.” His hands batted against the water as he kept himself afloat.

“Haz. Is this about Mr. Rosenthal?” Louis asked quietly.

“No, shit. It’s about my life. I’m—like I’m a fuck, not a friend.”

“I want to be your friend.”

“Nah you don’t. S’fine, I get it. I just exist to make people feel better about themselves. S’all I’m useful for these days.”

“That’s not true.”

Harry floated backwards in the water, moving away from Louis’ perch on the side of the pool. He pulled an ugly sneer. “And then they cut and run like I’m a come-dumpster or their own right hand.”

“Christ, that’s maudlin. Where is this all—when, Haz? What happened?”

“You _left_ me.”

“I didn’t want to! I didn’t have a choice, all right? I tried to contact you. For _months.”_

“The effect is the same.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have no idea how to make it up to you, but I can try. Ineffective as my efforts may be, they’re genuine. I do care about you. You’re important. You’re an important person. Not just to me, you’re important as a person.”

Harry shook his head before ducking his entire head under the water. “I don’t know how to be someone’s friend. I thought Lottie—but even she just told me she has the hots for me, and that’s weird. Everyone only ever looks at me like that anymore and it’s—at least with you, I know what I’m doing. But I don’t know how to be your friend.”

Louis shoved himself off the side of the pool and entered the water with a small splash. He quickly swam over to Harry, who backed up against the opposite wall. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked when they were in proximity of one another.

Louis placed his hands on Harry’s upper arms, clenching down. “You’re worth so much more than you think you are, Haz. You’re killing me, here. Stop letting people walk on top of you, you’re too important for that!” He clamped down hard for emphasis. “The last thing you should have done is track me down, because, fuck, I was horrible to you. But I’m—I won’t do that again, and now that you’re here I don’t want you to go. If you want me here, I’ll be here. You tracked me down for some reason. I can’t date you or love you or fuck you, and I’m sorry if that’s what you need from me.”

“I don’t know how to be your friend.”

Louis let go and took a step back, wading through the water slowly. “Well, we can figure it out together. Learn. I only know how to make enemies. And cheese toasties.”

“Sorry I can’t make you love me,” Harry whispered, eyes downcast.

Louis pursed his lips. “If only it were that easy. I mean—I just. I can’t promise you’ll find someone, but I’m pretty sure you will. You’re a great person, you know. Maybe with a little therapy you can even be happy,” he added with a snort.

“Are you happy?” Harry asked quickly, eyes snapping to Louis’ own.

“Course not. Wasn’t designed for it. But I’m not crashing sports cars into guardrails anymore.”

“That’s something like progress, then.”

Louis kicked his legs lazily, swimming in a casual circle as he eyed Harry. “S’pose so.”

“Louis!” Liam called, entering the room with an armful of swim trunks. “You have weird narrow hips and I can’t fit into any of these shorts.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Do what I do!” Harry suggested brightly, turning to look at Liam.

“Why? Why are you wearing, mate?”

“He’s naked,” Louis answered sagely.

“Of course you are.”

“I’m naked a lot.”

“I’m finding that out,” Liam said, nodding.

“Did you really try on every pair of my board shorts?” Louis asked.

“Yes.”

“You realize you could honestly just walk around naked and absolutely no one would complain,” Harry drawled, smiling up at Liam as he began to dogpaddle.

“Stop perving on my boyfriend,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes, shooting Liam a private smile.

“It’s technically a compliment. To you both, even! Liam now knows I think he’s fit and you now know I think you have good taste. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“Is—” Liam began, eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s always this weird,” Louis interrupted, swiveling his head back and forth between them both.

“I’m right here and I have working ears, you know.”

“Marvelous, working ears, the lot of us,” Louis said. “This is super weird, lads. Drunk swimming?”

“I refuse to carry you upstairs, all right? Not even if you’re drunk and soggy, claiming your ankle still hurts,” Liam threatened.

“You will.”

“Didn’t you say you broke that, what, three months ago?” Harry asked, running a hand through his wet hair. “You do love a good winge.”

“Fine, let’s get drunk at noon and pretend that’s not really idiotic,” Liam acquiesced with a roll of his eyes.

Louis, not one to press his luck, darted upstairs still wet to retrieve a mostly-full bottle of vodka and enough red wine to slake his desire to slit his wrists. His life was at the mercy of a cruel and mischievous god, and that god clearly hated him.

He returned to the basement, to the goddamn majestic _pool_ that filled up the basement of his stepfather’s house, and he mused that he was probably still drunk.

He spotted Liam immediately, seated shirtless on the diving board. He broke into a grin which Liam returned easily with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m at a loss,” Harry said from the center of the pool, spinning his body in circles. “Liam hates me. There’s nothing for it.”

“I don’t hate you!”

“Ah, so you say! But I’m an expert in phrenology and the shape of your cranium is really speaking wonders about you.”

Louis passed Liam the vodka bottle before unstoppering his wine. “Is this like the time you pretended to be a psychic magician to make Michael Whiteside lose a bet?” He moved to the shallow end of the pool, wading in slowly, needing distance from both Harry and Liam.

“No, phrenology’s like a real science. There’s diagrams and everything.”

“Diagrams? Like about the head?” Liam asked, taking a short pull from the bottle of vodka.

“Yeah they map out the top of the skull to chart your characteristics. It’s a thing!” Harry insisted, splashing in Louis’ general direction.

“I believe you,” Liam said slowly, placing the cap back on the bottle of vodka. He had the air of someone indulging a crazy person, but he hadn’t yet tried to strangle Harry. Louis considered this generally all right, in terms of people not dying.

“It’s how I know you’re benevolent and conscientious,” Harry crowed, collapsing into the water on his back. “And I’d reckon you have a strong sense of sight.”

Louis laughed, shoving the lip of the wine bottle into his mouth. “He’s not wrong.”

“I guess,” Liam agreed.

“Phrenology’s awesome,” Harry said. “It’s how I know you have a ten-inch cock.”

_“What.”_

“Oh, no, that bit’s true actually. I can confirm that!” Louis agreed

“Weird. Weird, so weird,” Liam responded, shaking his head before taking another pull from the bottle of vodka.

“Sorry, mate.” Harry shrugged, slowly pushing himself toward the ladder. “Be back.” He dragged himself up the ladder, and Liam averted his gaze from Harry’s bare backside.

“Jesus,” Liam muttered as Harry left, heading toward the toilet. “Shameless, a bit.”

“Oh, be nice. He’s had a rough go of it.” Louis sat down on the bottom step of the shallow end, nursing his bottle of wine.

“I am nice. And conscientious, apparently?”

“Yeah, he does talk some shit sometimes. Can I call it endearing without you freaking out?”

“Probably,” Liam called from across the pool. “Give it a go.”

“He’s important to me. Please try to understand that.”

“He’s naked in your basement!”

“He’s one of my best friends,” Louis said coolly, unsure if Harry could hear them or not.

“He’s basically in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. And if we’re playing this game? Take a look at your own best mate. Take a look at his track record too.” Louis dropped his gaze to the surface of the water, which he lazily flicked with his fingers.

“He’s—we’ve discussed it.”

“You’ve discussed he used to be in love with you?”

“Actually. Um. It’s been brought up.”

“Good. So you understand my position, because it’s your position.”

“Stop being obtuse, what the fuck,” Liam said, shifting the vodka bottle from hand to hand.

“Is he a threat to me? Zayn? Is he a threat?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Exactly. So you’re going to be okay when I go check on Harry? Because I’d bet fifty quid he’s crying right now, and that’s on me. That’s my fault and our fault. So I need to fix that. But I need you to be okay with it first.”

“Oh, god, really?” Liam’s head snapped up, his attention no longer on the bottle clutched in his hands. “Go, just. Yeah.”

“I—I need him. He’s important.”

“Fuck. I’m trying to get that, Lou, and all of this is hard for me to wrap my head around. So go, please, but just—give me a kiss first.”

Louis scrambled out of the water and jogged around the pool’s edge, sinking into a deep kiss. He straddled Liam’s lap for a moment, dripping water onto Liam’s dry clothes. He planted their lips together hot and dirty, getting lost into the sense of desire curling its way through his chest. 

Louis stood up abruptly, cutting off Liam’s wild kiss. “Be back. Gimme a mo.” He padded out of the room, breath caught at the back of his throat. “Haz?”

“Bathroom,” Harry answered, voice watery and wrecked.

Louis rounded the corner to see Harry sitting on the bathmat, damp head in his hands. Louis marveled at his ability to remain unself-conscious even when devastated—that he could be naked without feeling even more vulnerable. A dark place inside Louis envied Harry this quality, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he dropped to the ground next to Harry. He placed one still had onto the small of Harry’s back.

“I’m sorry everything is so fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“This hurts.” Harry snuffled, face still covered by his hands. “I thought getting out would help, like escaping or something. But it’s still the same old shit. Nobody wants me. Not in the way I need.”

“You need to be wanted?”

“I need to be needed.”

“You are needed. You’re important.”

“Not—like that. It’s killing me that I’m not, like, essential. It’s like I’m hollow inside and everyone can see it.” Harry coughed out a sob. “Even like—being with you was the closest thing I felt to something real, only to find out it didn’t mean as much to you?”

“No, Haz. The problem is that it did mean as much to me. And I was fucking terrified. And I was horrible to you, and I want to fix that. But not if it’s going to end up fucking you up even more. I’m trying to figure out how not to be a terrible person, and you did and do mean a lot to me.”

Harry gave a watery laugh. “Oh, so I get to be the guy who makes you a better person but not the one who gets to reap the rewards?”

“I’m sorry.” Louis began rubbing Harry’s back gently, moving his hand in a small circle.

“I bet you are. But I’m not sure it’s good enough, right now. I’m not sure it’s what I need to hear.”

“What do you need?” He traced Harry’s spine with one thumb.

“I need someone to love me the way I love them.”

“That’s—fuck, that’s not going to fix you!” Louis stopped rubbing Harry’s back and turned to face him, wincing at Harry’s water-filled eyes. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Having someone love you isn’t going to keep you from crying on the bathroom floor! It’s going to make it happen more often, because it’s just going to emphasize your vulnerability. It—it gives someone else the opportunity to royally fuck you over. Loving someone and them loving you isn’t some quick fix—it’s terrifying and constantly in flux and it’s confusing. And it hurts sometimes. It just _does.”_

“I’m already hurt.” Harry pulled out of Louis’ grasp.

“I know that.” Louis returned his hand to Harry’s back and began rubbing it again. “But it hurts a little less when you actually care about yourself. When you process your shit, the really ugly stuff that you’ve convinced yourself makes you worthless. When you realize you’re not actually ugly inside, and you can celebrate that others realize it too. Because you’re worth your own damn time and you deserve to be kind to yourself.”

Harry coughed, scrubbing one hand over his cheek to wipe away tears. “Damn, you are in therapy, aren’t you?”

“Two to three sessions a week for three months now.”

“I still wish I could make you love me,” he whispered. 

Louis considered this slowly, placing is head on Harry’s damp shoulder so as not to make eye contact. “It wouldn’t help even if you could. That’s not the real issue here, you know? Because something’s got you convinced you’re not even worth being someone’s friend, and that’s fucked up. And that’s got to hurt.”

“It’s not just one thing. It’s a lot of things.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if it felt like I used and abused you only to drop off the face of the earth. I never meant to do that to you. And I’m sorry about your mum, and I’m especially sorry about Rosenthal. I hope he rots in prison for what he did to you. But you can’t let yourself get stuck here, because it’s going to kill you. This mindset is going to rip you apart.”

“Why—what’s with you and Liam?”

“I dunno. It was an accident.”

“Oh. Well he’s quite fit,” Harry added, voice thick.

“He’s—yeah. We’re, um. He puts up with just enough of my shit and he seems to get it, somehow. And he’s so, like, good. Like a genuinely good person. Which is weird, because I’m not. Not trying to be self-deprecating, like. I just never understood how to be a good person. No one ever—showed me? I just kind of got left alone. So I just, like, marvel all the time at people who have so much shit going on and still manage to be functional and kind and kind of, like, with-it. He’s really strong, and I—dunno.”

‘That,” Harry said decisively, pulling away from Louis as he turned sideways to look at him. “Yeah, I want that. For someone to talk about me like that and mean it.”

“But like—you can’t expect it to make all your problems go away.” Louis’ hands fell into his lap uselessly.

“It’ll make one of my problems go away, at least.”

“Which is?”

Harry grimaced. “I’m lonely.”

“Be my friend.”

“Like it’s that easy.”

“It can be.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to absolutely troll everyone out of spite, but meh. I’ll stick with my original plan. Now everyone can stop bitching and questioning my morals/mental state.
> 
> For all those who have stuck around with this series, thank you so much :) Stay strapped in, it's just gonna get more exciting! xx


End file.
